


sweetheart, they're suspecting things

by sbsq



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Post-Canon, Sappy, Semi-Public Sex, Sober Beth Harmon, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbsq/pseuds/sbsq
Summary: Beth and Benny don't stay apart for long after Moscow. But at least they're being discreet about it. (They're not.)
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 8
Kudos: 306





	sweetheart, they're suspecting things

The State Department flies Beth from Moscow to D.C. for her meeting with the President. She politely beats him at chess and tolerates the photo ops, the projection of patriotism onto her disinterested body. Afterward, she goes back to her hotel room and calls him. (Not the President.)

“Hello?” He answers on the first ring.

“Benny Watts, you sound downright eager,” she smirks.

“I thought the press might be calling,” he lies unconvincingly.

“Sure.”

“How’s DC?”

“Boring, so far.” She hesitates. “I had hoped a surprise guest might make it more interesting.”

A long pause. Beth wonders if her move has left her too exposed.

There’s a roughness to Benny’s voice when he finally responds, and it both comforts Beth and riles her up. “What would people say? I know you wouldn’t want your grand victory overshadowed by gossip. I wouldn’t want that for you, either.”

She decides the moment she says it. “I’ll be in New York on Sunday.”

* 

Beth spends the cab ride from Penn Station downtown to Benny’s place listening to her heart pound. No matter what she wants others to think, what she wants him to think, she knows perfectly well that she has no cool at all where he’s concerned. The address she gave the cabbie is a few blocks from Benny’s apartment. She tips him generously and walks the rest of the way.

And there he is. Walking up to his building with a bag of groceries in one arm. He sees her, too. 

They don’t embrace on the sidewalk or even greet each other. He just silently unlocks the door to the building and holds it for her, then does the same again with his apartment door once they’ve walked down the narrow stairs.

It’s all so slow. Beth feels like she’s moving through honey. They step inside. He places the groceries on the table. She sets her suitcase on the floor. They watch each other. It’s hard to know without a clock, but she’s pretty sure it’s his turn.

He takes off his hat and coat and his stupid knife. His feet barely make a sound as he moves to stand behind her. She feels fingers hook gently under the collar of her coat, and she lets him pull it off her, throw it over the back of the chair, over his. Then his hand is on her waist, and when he whispers “you did it, Beth” into her ear, it sounds like worship.

Well. Sunday _is_ a holy day.

She spins around, and then their hands are flying, pulling clothes off each other, leaving them behind like a trail of vanquished opponents as they practically run to the bed. They grab at each other hastily, artlessly, like they’ve just been told what sex is and can’t wait to try it out. Benny hits his knuckles against his end table while reaching for a condom and swears.

Neither of them lasts long. But then, while her legs are still shaking, he crawls down her body, opens her up with his tongue, and that lasts quite a while. And then he moves back up over her, positioning her legs over his shoulders, and that lasts even longer. 

Afterward, she rests in a delicious haze and looks at him, propped up on one arm, thoughts visibly churning behind his eyes.

“Don’t say anything about chess right now,” she cautions him.

He grins. “Wasn’t thinking about chess.”

“What were you thinking?”

“That I’m one lucky motherfucker.” He touches her collarbone, idly glides his hand around the curve of her breast, his eyes following his hand’s path. When he speaks again, he sounds breathless. “That I’m really glad you’re here.”

*

The Chess Federation is pleased that Beth is in New York (not that she did it for them). Easier there to send her to interviews, photo shoots. The reporter from _New York Magazine_ asks for Benny to come along, too, and he obviously relishes the attention. He describes their coaching routine—with some notable omissions—and praises her brilliance, her intuition, and her work ethic. Maybe it’s because of how he looks at her, or his tone of voice, or maybe the question was just inevitable: the reporter leans forward conspiratorially and asks, “And how do you feel about Miss Harmon, other than as a chess player?”

Beth stops breathing then. Benny leans forward, matching the reporter’s posture and shit-eating grin, and replies, “If you want to be my analyst, I’ll need a couch to lie on, and I’m pretty sure you can’t publish anything I say.”

It’s not a denial or a confirmation. In Beth’s mind, it’s absolutely perfect. She wonders how long they can balance on the knife’s edge.

*

Eventually, she heads back to Kentucky. She’s excited to see Jolene, to thank her and repay her. She would never have gotten to Moscow without her friend—it’s only fair to ensure that Jolene has all she’ll need for law school and then some. She plans to visit Harry and the twins as well. And then there are the mundane matters: taking in the piled-up mail, getting the lawn mowed, paying the bills. In between all of it, she calls Benny. They play chess and flirt (and, really, what’s the difference?) three or four times a day. 

“Bishop to H4.”

“Pawn takes knight.”

“Pawn to E6. You must be running up a hell of a phone bill, with all these long calls to me.”

“Knight to B6. Not to mention my long calls to all the other guys I’m seeing.”

An uncomfortable pause. She feels herself blushing, simultaneously regretting her joke and exhilarated to get under Benny’s skin. “Is that so?” he says slowly. “Pawn takes.”

That’s check. She closes her eyes. “No, of course it isn’t. King takes pawn.”

“Rook to F1.” Check again. “That’s good. Because I was thinking it might be an overall savings if I just came to stay for a while. And it would be awkward to sit around while you called other men.”

It’s only been a couple weeks since she left New York, she’s about to say. But what comes out is, “King retreats. How soon can you get here?”

*

He arrives the next morning. His breath smells of coffee, and his hat casts a shadow exaggerating the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean you had to drive all night.” Beth can’t stop smiling.

“Couldn’t wait to get here and ravish you.” He drops his duffel bag in the entryway. “Bedroom?”

She leads him there. Benny tries to strip her clothes off, but his movements are sluggish, clumsy.

“I’m happy to fuck you six hours from now,” she laughs.

“Oh, thank God.” Then she’s the one helping him out of his clothes, and it feels… tender. She curls up behind him on the bed, spooning him, and he’s out instantly. And she feels, clearly, that this is not just fucking or coaching or friendship. It frightens her, and her first impulse is to leave the room, to come back later, imperturbable, in a negligée with a chess set.

She holds him closer.

*

Beth wakes to find Benny face to face with her, watching her with a soft gaze. At some point while they were dozing, their arms and legs wrapped themselves around each other. It’s better than a handful of pills.

“Has it been six hours?” she murmurs.

He smirks. “Give me two seconds. Condoms are in my coat pocket.”

She tightens her limbs around him, not letting him move. “If you like. But my first errand when I got back was a doctor’s appointment. Got on the pill.” She feels the same bone-deep satisfaction watching his pupils dilate that she felt the first time she beat him at speed chess.

Which is nothing to the satisfaction of feeling him sink deep inside her from behind, his ragged breaths and whispered curses shooting like a bolt from her ear to her cunt.

They don’t get out of bed much that day, or the next. More to life than chess, as Alma said once.

*

Beth and Benny make no effort to hide his presence in Lexington. They run errands together, play chess on the front porch, make a scene in a park when Beth beats him, Beltik, Townes, and the twins in a simultaneous.

“If you were just my coach,” Beth reasons one night while they watch a drive-in movie, “there’d be no reason to be discreet. In a way, it’s less suspicious if we’re out in public.”

“Mmm,” Benny agrees, sliding his hand between her legs.

The press does notice. Not the exhibitionism, thank God, but Benny’s seemingly indefinite stay in Kentucky. She quickly tires of answering their calls and their questions, and she can only come up with so many non-response responses.

“Benny Watts helped me beat Borgov,” she tells yet another reporter while Benny fixes them sandwiches. “If it’s not broke, why fix it? And besides, we both benefit—I have a thing or two to teach him.”

Benny, shirtless, waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively as he hands over her grilled cheese.

*

They drive to an invitational in Pittsburgh. Beth has been to this one before, a few years ago with Alma. The chess players are even staying at the same hotel. At the front desk, Beth asks if she can have the same room again – 316. She remembers the number because Alma’s birthday was March 16th. 

Nancy, the perky front desk clerk, is happy to arrange that. As Benny starts to check in, Beth asks, impulsively, “Is 318 available?” Nancy fights to suppress a smile as her eyes dart between them. Beth doesn’t look at Benny, but she feels his eyes on the side of her face like a heat ray from a science-fiction story. 

When they reach their rooms, he’s ready to follow into hers, but she feigns shock. “Mr. Watts, I’m sure that wouldn’t be appropriate.” She quietly shuts the door behind her, then crosses the room to the other thing she remembered about this hotel. _Have you seen these before, Beth?_ Alma had asked. _They’re called communicating doors. For large families, you see, or something more… intimate._ She smiles as she remembers her mother’s giggle.

Benny is waiting, leaning casually against the door jamb, when she opens the passage between their rooms. Lately, Benny always seems to be waiting for her. She has an idea—or, at least, a hope—of what he might be waiting for.

*

They’re lying in bed in Benny’s room the next day, playing chess in their underwear, when the phone rings. 

“Hello?” Benny answers, lodging the phone between his ear and shoulder while moving his bishop.

It’s a reporter from England who wants to talk to Benny about his book, which has just been reprinted there and is apparently flying off the shelves. 

Beth starts to feel a low itch of annoyance. His attention is necessarily divided, and she’s not content playing chess with half of Benny. She crawls around the board, careful not to disturb any pieces, and watches him watch her move. Benny’s eyes widen when she gently pushes him from his side onto his back and slides his briefs down to his knees. She touches his hipbones, her fingers moving slowly toward his hardening cock, her eyes locked on his with a _stop me if you want to but I hope you don’t_ kind of look.

He grins back at her and answers the reporter’s next question coolly, calmly. 

When she wraps her hand around him, his voice doesn’t waver, but the rise and fall of his chest speeds up visibly. When she lowers her face to lick the head of his cock, he briefly becomes less verbal, letting his mouth drop open in pleasure in between pensive, noncommittal _hmms_. But not even Beth’s wet mouth and unflinching gaze can stop Benny talking for long.

It’s a rush for her, hearing him carry on a conversation about openings while she watches him flush and twitch and stare at her that way he so often does, like he’s seeing her beat him, like he wants to lose. She’s still teasing him, making long lazy flat-tongued swipes up his shaft, sucking on the head for a few moments at a time. He’s got one hand holding the phone now, the other helplessly grabbing the headboard. 

But Benny’s never really helpless. The reporter has just asked another question, though Beth can’t hear what it was, and Benny smiles deviously at her as he prepares his answer.

“Nothing’s irrelevant in chess. No matter how outdated or overplayed a sequence seems, if you don’t prepare for it, that’s when your opponent will swallow you whole.”

Beth can take a hint.

*

The Pittsburgh final, unsurprisingly, is Harmon vs. Watts. Benny draws white. It takes Beth three moves to realize that he’s replaying their last match. She feels blood rush to her cheeks. When they woke up that morning, he’d suggested playing chess and she’d suggested sex. So they’d done both. Now, as Benny takes her pawn with his knight, she remembers him grunting out that move as he fucked her, his thumb circling her clit.

She takes a deep breath, aware of the audience, the cameras. Very aware of the smirk on Benny’s face. _What the fuck is he playing at?_ she wonders. _I won that game._ She purses her lips and keeps playing the same game, watching out for traps. He must have noticed a mistake. He wouldn’t throw the match.

But Benny plays the same moves. He brings out his other knight. His queen’s bishop. Moves a pawn up. He’s barely looking at the board. His eyes mostly stay locked on hers, though his gaze sometimes drops to her mouth. Or to her hand. Beth moves her queen and remembers his moan as she slipped a finger inside him. She reaches for her water glass and drinks. She needs to take her time, not let him take her apart with mind games.

Then she sees it. Her rook is vulnerable. She glances nervously at Benny, who smiles coolly. How could she have missed it the first time? How could he have? _Well,_ she muses, _it’s sort of like playing high._

In the end, it’s a draw. When they stand for pictures, she sees onlookers whispering to each other, smug expressions, a few scandalized faces. What must they have looked like? The absurdity of it all hits her. She’s bored of pretending—and they’ve barely been pretending—and besides, she wants to shock him as much as he just shocked her.

Beth takes Benny’s hand, entwines her fingers comfortably with his. The cameras go off even faster, murmurs moving through the crowd, and she looks at him. She looks at him looking at her like _I would drive all night for you,_ like _I don’t want to stop you,_ like _you did it, Beth._


End file.
